


Time, Life, and Death: Seeing to Things

by alexi_of_carthanas



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ableism, Death, Deities, Disability, Fate, Gen, Healthcare discrimination, Life - Freeform, Medical Ableism, Medical Discrimination, Other, Paranormal, Supernatural Elements, Time - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23577538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexi_of_carthanas/pseuds/alexi_of_carthanas
Summary: TIME WAS RELEVANT IN THIS WORLD. Time said everyone had a Time to go, and only then Death would take them away. Fate was the god everyone feared, capricious and willing to cheat Death. Time linked with Life and an eternal wellspring, scattering shards of light and sunlit water like a fountain over the universe with each rain. Time told Death the Times of all the people, Life working with Death to ensure the Time was met.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Time, Life, and Death: Seeing to Things

**Author's Note:**

> featuring: Fate being That Bastard. Very much a WIP concept, I'll have more actual worldbuilding on it later. Planned short story/novella length.

DEATH MET AISHA WHEN SHE WAS 23, hearing the frantic pleas of the young woman and her parents. Quietly listened to the doctors in the hospital discussing if Aisha was a good candidate for a kidney transplant. Watched them come to their decision to deny her. Autism, they said, would make Aisha a poor fit. Even with her parents’ support, they said, she would do poorly in post-surgical care. 

So Death did the only thing he could. He invited Fate to a game of chess over wine.

The wine glinted blood-red in silver cups engraved with swirling lines. Lines that twisted and then abruptly halted. Lives Fate had cut off. Fate liked to call them goblets, of course. He tended to upgrade the terminology for all his possessions. 

“If you lose, Death, the woman will not have a chance to even try another medical facility.”

Death smiled, because he usually won at chess. It was the only game Fate knew how to play fairly. And Death was very good at outmaneuvering Fate. Yet Fate only occasionally denied Death the opportunity for a game of chess, a game for someone’s life. 

“Accepted. If I win, the hospital is guaranteed to reverse their initial decision to deny Aisha the transplant, when their administrative complaint is filed. She will be placed on the organ donor wait list. She will survive the wait period and receive her transplant successfully.” 

“Accepted. Has anyone told you that you’re terrible at your job, Death?”

“You, many times. But my job is to honor people’s Times of Death. It’s not hers yet.”

“We’ll see about that.”

An ages-old script that was said every time.  But Death won the game for Aisha’s life. So he had heard the pleas of Aisha and her parents, a worship like no other, and he had answered. 

The chess board cracked under a set of solid gold scales as one scale plummeted down into the chess board. Fate used the scales to toy with people’s lives, choosing fates. And to break chess boards. Death snorted as he left Fate’s chambers. 

DEATH WENT TO VISIT AISHA’S BEDSIDE. She smiled and told him, “They decided to do the transplant when it’s my turn on the waitlist!” 

“Excellent,” said Death. “I’m glad the administrative complaint worked.”

Aisha took Death’s hand. Death was briefly concerned she was going to do the… thing people did. Well, the thing where they looked intently at his face, despite his eyes being shrouded, and got all heartfelt. 

But Aisha did not look him in the eye, and instead said: “Advocacy Is important, y’know? I mean, I dunno, we found advice online about complaining to the hospital board. So we did? You helped too, I think. Not sure how. But you said you would. So I knew it wasn’t my Time yet.” She dropped Death’s hand.

He smiled. “Asking for my assistance can be important. I usually am good at tilting the scales. But fighting for your rights – that is equally as vital. You keep doing that.” 

Death left after a while of comfortable silence in the hospital room, before her parents returned. So he had heard the pleas of Aisha and her parents, a worship like no other, and he had answered. So Aisha had taken his hand, and he had not led her away, because it was not her Time. 

TIME WAS RELEVANT IN THIS WORLD.  Time said everyone had a Time to go, and only then Death would take them away. Fate was the god everyone feared, capricious and willing to cheat Death. Time linked with Life and an eternal wellspring, scattering shards of light and sunlit water like a fountain over the universe with each rain. Time told Death the Times of all the people, Life working with Death to ensure the Time was met. 

But it was Death who people seemed to worship most, featured as the patron god of the shrines in this pantheon. He supposed it was the way of things, and he had tried to get Time and Life into broader visibility. Both Time, Life, and humanity seemed averse to this prospect. 

Time and Life shifted most fluidly of the four in appearances, most unseen by humans. Today Time wore their butterfly wings, spreading wide and translucent, and starry silks cascaded down an ephemeral form. “Greetings, Time,” said Death, bowing his head after knocking and lightening his shadowy cloak to grays and purples: a sign of respect. “I have successfully forced Fate to comply. Again.” 

Time’s wings vibrated, their voice a staccato and irritated melody: “As he should. Life will be pleased to know, however.” 

Death nodded. “How is our Liege - Life?”

“I’ve been trying to convince them that if they’re going to be upset at humanity and Fate they might as well come of their well to tell people, but, alas.”

Death sighed. Life had a tendency to lose solid form when depressed; their standard form somewhat bright, bold dragonfly wings, sunshine rays and water droplets to  _ begin  _ with. “Should I talk to them?”

“If you wish,” said Time, stretching wings. “You look a little different.”

“Oh? I can’t see myself in human mirrors, and being wet is kind of musty for me, so I avoid lakes.”

Time tilted their head. “Just a little brighter, that’s all. An edge of scattered sparks. Have you ever considered a less masculine association?”

“I suppose I could achieve one, but it’s just easier to let it happen when you’re dealing with a million people or so - their perceptions make it harder to develop new forms.” Death fidgeted with his staff - he had stopped using the scythe about two hundred years ago. “I have been trying out a very dark shade of purple, just above black lately, so we’ll see.”

Time’s own fingers drifted to the glowing chains strung on their neck, baubles of golden sand trickling out like human glitter. “Makes sense. Good luck finding Life, if you’re inclined to talk to them. They’ve moved the well again.”

Death lightly smacked his head with the staff in exasperation. “Oh,  _ goody. _ ” 


End file.
